


Beyond Words

by Merci



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-24
Updated: 2008-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merci/pseuds/Merci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toki has trouble expressing himself in English, but Skwisgaar knows what he means when it counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Words

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Metalocalypse, Toki, or Skwisgaar. The story itself *does* belong to me. I am making no profit from this endeavour.
> 
> The last episode of season one, like with many Skwis/Toki shippers, got me all excited.  While at work, I sketched out some random drabbles onto scraps of paper; all of them centred on the famous dialogue between our favourite guitarists.  I guess I’m trying to explore what was said and ways it could be interpreted. 
> 
> I think this drabble was influenced by an essay I read by Amy Tan who spoke about people who have difficulty speaking English as a second language and how some people perceive them as dumb just because they can’t communicate their thoughts/feelings in English. It’s been a few years since I read the essay, but it really makes me think about Toki and Skwisgaar and how they’re made to look kinda stupid in the show, when a lot of it is just a language barrier and not much is based on their actual intelligence.

Skwisgaar's words were short, poorly chosen and nearly undecipherable, but they were hard enough to hurt. The 'stupids' and 'dildos' were padding around the real insults that flared from the lead guitarist’s eyes whenever he eyed his Norwegian band mate.

The rhythm guitarist fumbled to counter the insults with biting remarks of his own. The words in his head sounded brutal and awesome in his native tongue, but when he opened his mouth, they were clumsy and ineffective. Spitting them out in garbled English only earned him confused looks and more insults – he’d taken to agreeing with others instead of saying what he thought. Saying ‘that’s right’ or ‘that’s what I’m talking about’ seemed to satisfy most people and keep him involved with any conversation. Agreeing was his answer to fitting in…

But it was hard to agree with someone who told him he was stupid and made him feel like shit. With Skwisgaar he had to stand up for himself and fight back, but he stumbled on the pronunciations and tripped over the tenses. English was clumsy and hard and he _did_ sound fucking stupid, even to his own ears.  He could barely make the other man bat an eyelash, much less care.

Skwisgaar’s self-esteem was like an iron wall he just couldn’t cut through. He couldn’t even scratch off that cocky smile the guitarist wore wherever he went. Toki, it seemed, was beneath his notice and unable to make him feel the least bit bad. He tried not to dwell on this failure; nobody could make the Swede feel _anything_.

Toki fumed; why the hell did he feel so bad? His back tightened when he heard the other man draw breath, ready to hear the put-downs. His heart beat fast whenever that cocky blonde walked into the room, he would ball his fists, ready to take it all. Take, take, never give back the same hollow, worthless feeling the Swede pushed onto him every chance he got.

He just wanted to make Skwisgaar feel the same.  He wanted _just once_ for the bulky, staggered English language to be something comfortable in his mouth.  He wanted his tongue to wrap around the tones that expressed what really meant and to tell the other man just how much he hated his guts.

He did hate him, right?

The moment finally came when they were alone, knocked into the snow by a killer in an iron mask and words weren’t needed to understand they were about to die.

Toki felt the cold biting into the back of his neck, seeping through his thin shirt and he turned his head to the hateful blonde, the man who made a habit of making fun of him and pushing him down.  This was his chance and he finally wrapped his lips around the phrase he’d been harboring in his mind.  He spoke so softly, kicking the sentiment out with his tongue and waiting for the hurt look to show on the Swede’s face. “I’ve always hated you, Skwisgaar.”  He shuddered, feeling his stomach clench into knots as he lied through his teeth. 

He watched, hiding the anxiety churning in his guts, waiting for that bastard to show that he felt something.  Icy eyes locked with the watery-blue of the lead guitarist.

"I knows, Toki.  I knows."


End file.
